Dawn's Story
by Avalon0823
Summary: Hi, my alias is Avalon, and this is my third story I'm publishing. Please don't judge too harshly on it, since I know I'm just a 6th grader and I'm not as experienced as many other fantastic authors on this website. I hope you would enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it.


My name is Dawn, and here is my story up until now.

"Tut, tut, another magnificent evening gone to waste…" my brain mutters sleepily to myself, as I stare out into the horizon for the 23rd time this month, with swollen eyes from uncontrollable tears. I let out a heavy sigh. The warm autumn air is blowing gently against me, yet I wince, shivering. For the 23rd time. And for what seems like the millionth time, I think, "My parents simply don't care." That thought, that very thought, haunt me all the time.

Oh, I love both of them. There is no answer to who I love more. That's why they've decided that I was some kind of being that had just as much value as an old rubbish-heap, which isn't really valuable. No one will notice me here, though. I'm probably just an insignificant speck of dust here… no one would wonder where useless Dawn was, right? I never really cared about or liked the idea of Group Home, anyways… Anywhere I could just eat and sleep was fine, however unwelcome I was. I was never welcome anywhere, anyway.

Quite a few years ago, actually, but I can remember it as though it was yesterday. "I declare this meeting closed, no… almost closed. The relationship between Sarah Juliet Monroe and Jacob Tyler Johnson officially and legally finished… ended… Now, only one more decision to make," the judge said. The whole time I was just looking at my feet. The elaborate designs on my sneakers kept me entertained while my parents argued. "Dawn Rachel Johnson, which guardian do you prefer, your mother or your father?" the judge asked. It was so weird to hear someone referring my dad as 'father'. He wasn't my father. He was my dad. I didn't answer, trying to be really interested how those pink shoelaces that were loosely tied, bound to unravel after walking a few short minutes. They always unraveled. Always. "Dawn Rachel Johnson, make a decision," that cold voice rang through my ears again. "I hate this!" I screamed, "I like them, I love them… Both of them… I can't choose!" "Well, then," he said in a snide voice, "group home." And my parents, avoiding each other, just patted me on the back a bit before we parted. Then they left without a word. And I let it sink in. I was never going to see my parents again. The very next day, I rode in a van with a few other unfortunate kids to group home. The lady there was all like, "Oh, hi, you lot! You must be Violet, Chloe, Lauren, and Dawn!" Oh, how I hated that false cheery voice she'd tuned up on us. And then she ushered us inside, gave us meals, showed us where we'd be sleeping, showed us where the restrooms were, showed us where the other girls were, all that usual rubbish…

And every day dragged on, nothing special. Every morning, every girl woke up sharp at 7 o' clock, made their beds, ate breakfast, had free time, ate lunch, had free time, ate supper, then slept. I woke up sharp at 6 o' clock every day, cried my eyes out, mourned about my parents, cursed at fate, with no one watching. Then I headed down for breakfast… And then I silently stepped out the door, climbed up to the roof of the group home, and stay there until midnight, feeling sorry for myself. Yes, that's my boring life. Then I'd creep in silently again and steal some food from the refrigerator and eat and cry myself to sleep. The morning would come again, and again and again. Yes, that's how Dawn, a perfectly happy little girl, with parents to look and care for her, changed to this state.

I always hung out on the roof. I felt sorry for myself, cried until there were no more tears to leak out of my eyes, screamed at my misfortune like crazy, and such. It was my home, it was my sanctuary, it was my observatory. I'd hear a cry of a sea-bird in the wind occasionally. Its cry would, of course, die down due to my hysteric sobs. A cloud in the west like a pall would soon creep upward, and soon, the sky's light would be switched off… and it would be night… then I'd just gaze expressionless at the cluster of stars that hangs like fruit in the tree… My face would be all sticky and a mess from the tears, but well, I couldn't do anything to it, since it was inevitable. A few streams of saltwater seemed to trickle down my pale-as-wax face every day, every night.

"Yeah, they don't care. At all," I convince myself again and again, through the fatigued, faded, lusterless air that surround me all the time. My mom would have found herself an absolutely splendid boyfriend already, having another child, ignoring that small corner of her mind, nagging her, "How 'bout poor Dawn?" My dad would be going to business and earning heaps of money to spend all to himself… yes, he's enjoy that… See, no one cares about Dawn… See, no one cares about Dawn… See, no one cares about Dawn… Oh, just LOOK at useless Dawn… Her future probably all ruined, unemployed and forever alone…

And I nicked food again from the fridge, and cried myself to sleep. But that was all I needed, really. The message sunk in. No one's going to care about Dawn. No one's going to understand my pain. And I've had enough coping. The morning, at 6 o' clock, I woke up as usual, but I didn't cry my eyes out and all the usual. Crying about that ruthless fate that has been set upon me wasn't going to do me anything. So I didn't cry. I packed. Those few pairs of jeans my dad bought me, and some summer blouses my mom gave me before we were no longer family before. And my toothbrush. And my teddy. When I was ready, with all my belongings stuffed in a black trashed bag, slung over my shoulder, it was 6:30. Steadily, I crept out, remembering to be extra careful and quiet. I was absolutely certain no one would notice my disappearance until a good number of years passed.

I didn't know for how long, but I ran. I didn't know where to go, but I ran, without realizing how tired I was. When I stopped, I was in the city. A car whizzed by, making my hair to whoosh up then down again. The car number was K-K8683… Hey, that was familiar… where did I see it before? But what did I care now? I was hungry. I dug in the trashcan, and found a half-drank soda and a half-chewed hamburger. And I ate. And that familiar car stopped right in front of me.

Sarah Juliet Monroe came out of the fancy red car. Right, that was my mom's car. I forgot. I glanced up at her, half expecting her to care, expecting her to notice me. But from the back seat, a stunningly pretty girl came out with a guitar slung over her back. "Off you go, Helen… You might be late for your guitar lessons…" my mom yelled after the girl, who was now skidding into the building behind me, flashing my mom a smile. My mom waved at the girl, continuously.

And I don't know what made me do it. Sarah Juliet Monroe got in the car again. "Mom!" I yelled. Sarah Juliet Monroe just instinctively said, "Helen, dear, did you forget something?" "Mom!" I yelled again. I seriously don't know what made me do that. Sarah Juliet Monroe just stared at me, blinked a few times, and muttered, "Holy Chaos… Is that you, Dawn?" Well duh it was me… "You'd better come in the car… Never knew you were homeless… Dawn, did you know that I wanted you to come live me all along? But you'd never choose, Dawn… Foolish girl! Well, you'll live with us, I suppose… Robert is at work, I doubt he'd mind if I brought you home and raised you… I know it's awkward…" she babbled on. I went in the car.

The car ride was really… I don't know. We got to my mom's house, and in front of the building, I saw Jacob Tyler Johnson. That was my dad. He did seem surprised to see me, yes. "Oh, yes, we're neighbors…" Sarah Juliet Monroe said in an undertone, looking kind of flustered. I just did a small wave at my ex-dad.

I'd like to say that Robert and Helen got lost and my family got united again, but no. I lived in the house with Helen and Robert and my ex-mom for the week days and lived with my ex-dad on the weekends. Helen was a really snooty girl while Robert was all right… I guess my life isn't THAT bad, come to think of it. If I hadn't ran, I might be on that roof crying again, or maybe even dead. Did I forget to mention that I was deeply considering suicide? If I did forget, no matter. I'm pretty satisfied with life right now, and everything's perfectly fine. Yes, perfectly fine.


End file.
